Love and TV

July 28, 2013 § Leave a comment


The images come back in black and white, happy. Old-time television. Specifically Spanish-language TV, before I realized it sold you things, was run by corporations, or was the cause for society’s destruction. I’m a little boy. Before I remember speaking English even.

A little man, Chaplin-like, in a funny walk down the street is what I see. A long forgotten jingle plays in the background.

The music was everywhere. Catchy and easy to sing along to. An early meme before it had a name or people cared about such things. It was just fun.

El chaparito Ston, the short little man named Stone.

All of it had moved back deep into wherever old images and emotions go till I dropped-off some clothes and a sputter of being a kid, my grandmother singing the jingle, laughing at the television commercial came joyfully up.

On and off, slowly, at first, in segments, mini-episodes-like. Over weeks and months.

Some days I ‘d regress longer and quickly be shocked-back-on while I drove by the store, no clothes to launder, or woken-up while opening the trunk as I pulled out the pants on hangers. Other times it was when I grabbed my stained coat and tried re-living the adventure that caused the stain. Most of the time I never even noticed the dried-on sauce, beer foam marks like suds on the shoreline at the beach, or the many mysterious substances till after, just like the short little man and my grandmother.

The old commercial is probably online if I really look for it. I don’t want to find it. The melding of past, my idyllic distortions, and created personal narratives of childhood mean a lot more than reality.

It’s great remembering. It’s like finding something that I didn’t know I had lost. Feels good. Valuable in a non-materialistic way. Sentimental. One with humanity. No one else has this. It was between my grandmother and me. Like her little whistle that secretly called when no one else even noticed. It was part of our mysterious connection. More than biology or familial familiarity.

It was the same at the hospital, all those tubes and annoying bleeps from machines: we had conversations without talking. My grandmother died years ago.

That commercial really made my grandma happy. I wish I could remember the jingle. Perfect moments when everything mattered and nothing could get in the way. I am grateful to have lived it. Real or not.

I love you Doña Feliz. This is not only for me — it is for you, too.


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